


Numb

by kathkin



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, bit of body horror, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Jamie wasn’t afraid of dying – but if there was one thing travelling with the Doctor had taught him, it was that there were worse things.</i> In which Jamie is captured by the cybermen and partially cyber-converted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Numb

**Author's Note:**

> Set some time between _The Wheel In Space_ and _The Invasion_.

The Doctor had taken Jamie to a house of mirrors once, at a fairground sometime in the twentieth century. That was what the inside of the cyber-ship was like – every surface polished so brightly that he could see himself in it, a hundred struggling Jamie McCrimmons with cold metal hands clasped about their limbs.

“You’ll no take me that easy, you hear?” he snarled at the cyberman on his left. “D’you hear? A Scotsman never goes down without a fight!” He struggled and twisted in their grip, but it was no good. He might as well have been clamped in a vice, they were so strong. He settled for making himself as heavy as he could, his feet dragging on the polished floor.

What would the Doctor do? Start asking questions, that’s what he’d do. “Where’re you taking me?” A door swished open ahead of them. “I – demand to know –”

His question was answered for him soon enough. Beyond the door was a place like an operating theatre, six shining metal slabs in a row and more metal beasties standing around. The sight of that place struck him dumb.

The cybermen thrust him down onto a slab with enough force to knock the wind out of him. He remembered Telos, and what the cyber-controller had said – _you shall be like us_. Jamie wasn’t afraid of dying – but if there was one thing travelling with the Doctor had taught him, it was that there were worse things.

“You’ll no make me like you,” he said as he writhed and bucked on the slab. “D’you hear that, you great metal beasties? D’you –” Metal clamped down against his wrist. He turned his head and saw a thick clasp holding it down to the slab, just as with a _snap_ they pinned his other wrist.

He yelled, and he kicked. He kicked as hard as he could, but though his feet thunked against their metal skins they didn’t even seem to notice. With unnatural, inhuman strength they pinned his legs to the slab and bound his ankles.

But for his own yells, there was nary a sound in that place. The cybermen were so quiet; the conversion chamber was silent as they strapped him down, their empty eye-sockets peering down at him. Silent, but for a nasty, metallic clicking somewhere nearby.

He twisted his head against the slab and saw the machines against the wall lit up – and he saw one of the beasties, drawing out a tray of metal things like a surgeon’s tools.

It was the sight of those tools that did it. Up until then, he hadn’t been truly scared – no more scared than he was on a normal day, anyway. But then it hit him with full force what they meant to do, and he blind panicked. 

He said, “Doctor,” then turned his head towards the doors and shouted. “Doctor!” The clicking was growing more intense. He screamed the Doctor’s name again, at the top of his lungs. “ _Doctor_!”

He strained against the straps, but he was held firm. The cybermen were standing all about the slabs, one of them holding a thing like a cage, a round cage that it was lowering onto his head. He struggled, twisting his head from side to side, but it was no good. The cyberman put the cage about his head and moved away.

“Doctor!” he screamed. “ _Doctor_!”

There was a harsh _click_ and a high-pitched whine filled his ears. It grew more and more shrill, rising in pitch until it was painful, and though he struggled he felt his movements growing sluggish. Above him the looming faces of the cybermen melted into a silver blur; and then into darkness. Cold, liquid darkness swallowed him up.

*

Seasick. That’s how he felt, seasick. The world was a-rolling around him like he was on a boat. For an addled moment he thought he was on the Annabelle, sailing to France, but that wasn’t right. He’d not gone to France. He sailed away with the Doctor instead.

Still, he felt seasick. It wasn’t until he saw a glimmer of light – a lamp, affixed to a rocky wall – that he realised what the rolling was; his own body, moving without his telling it to. 

Where was he, then? He couldn’t place himself. He was underground, somewhere – yes, the caves. They’d come to see the caves. The planet’s name began with a T and ended with a number, and it was the forty-something century. He remembered the Doctor’s excitement when he’d realised where they’d landed. “Some of the finest cave-paintings you’ll ever see Jamie,” he’d said on the way out of the TARDIS. “Painted by an indigenous life form – ten, fifteen thousand years ago, and the conditions in those caves just right to preserve them!” He’d clapped his hands together and stood beaming at the sunlit air.

Jamie’s mind was too confused to remember whether or not he’d seen the cave paintings. No, but he remembered the cybermen. A whole ship full of them hiding in the caves. He remembered running, running until they came to a branch in the tunnel. The Doctor’d given Jamie a shove down the right fork and said, “you go that way, I’ll go this way. I’ll see you outside.”

It was as good a plan as any. No sense them both getting caught, and they hadn’t. That was one wee consolation, he supposed, that they hadn’t caught the Doctor. Just him, and only because the ground was wet. He’d fallen flat on his face in a puddle and while he was clambering to his feet he’d felt their metal hands grabbing at him.

Now he was walking back down the tunnel, and he could see daylight in the distance. He’d have been glad, except it wasn’t him walking and try as he might he couldn’t stop. The back of his neck was itching where the cybermen had – 

He heard the Doctor before he saw him, his voice echoing cheerily down the tunnel. He felt his footsteps slow, and his hand move to touch something concealed at his belt. He recognised the shape of it – the butt of a pistol, of a cyber-weapon. He’d used one like it on Telos.

It didn’t feel real. His legs felt unnaturally heavy, and the world was shaking blearily about him. He’d have thought it was some terrible nightmare had the Doctor not been there. When Jamie had nightmares the Doctor was never in them.

He was standing on the rocky ground before the cave mouth, in deep conversation with Zoe, and turning about in his hands a kind of silvery snake. “Ah, Jamie!” he said as Jamie’s feet tramp-tramped across the ground. “I was beginning to worry. Did you lose them?”

“Aye, Doctor,” said Jamie’s traitorous mouth. His voice felt all wrong, too slow and harsh, and he thought for sure the Doctor would notice at once, but he didn’t. He was too busy with his snake.

“Now, would you look at this?” said the Doctor, holding up the snake. “I found it in the tunnels.”

“It’s a cybermat,” said Jamie’s mouth.

“Yes, yes,” said the Doctor. “But would you look at it? I’ve not seen the like before. Don’t worry, it’s quite dead.” He held up the snakey cybermat for Jamie’s approval. “I think we’d best get it back to the TARDIS. I’d like to take a proper look.” He strutted away, still beaming at his find, and though Jamie tried to screw his feet to the ground, he began to follow.

He could feel the metal they’d put in his head buzzing away, making his teeth chatter, and he didn’t know what they were doing but he was sure it couldn’t be good.

“Are you alright?” said Zoe as rocks gave way to grass beneath their feet. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m alright,” Jamie’s voice echoed. Zoe nodded and jogged away to join the Doctor, leaving the Jamie marching steadily behind them.

They had to notice sooner or later, didn’t they? They’d notice, and the Doctor would find a way to fix this. The Doctor had never let him down before, and he wouldn’t now, Jamie was certain of it. But he was just as certain that the cyberman that had taken up residence in his head mustn’t get back to the TARDIS, or all hell was sure to break loose. He felt his hand brush the cyber-pistol again, and was hit by another wave of nausea. If his body was his own he’d have thrown up – but if his body was his own, he wouldn’t be in this predicament at all.

The Doctor prattled all the way back to the TARDIS, but Jamie barely heard a word of it. The metal in his head was buzzing away right up until the TARDIS doors opened. Then, abruptly, it went still.

“I think this little creature may be entirely robotic,” the Doctor was saying. He set the cybermat down on the console and waved Jamie over to look. “Remarkable engineers, the cybermen.”

“Oh, aye,” said Jamie’s voice.

“Really, Doctor,” said Zoe. “I’d almost think you admire them.”

“Only their engineering skills.” The Doctor held the cybermat up to the light. Jamie’s body drifted away drifted away, standing back, where it could watch the whole scene like a sentinel. “The uses they put them to – ah! Now would you look at that?”

He’d got the cybermat open, and within moments he and Zoe were chattering excitedly about what was inside. It was small wonder they hadn’t noticed anything the matter. Jamie was usually quiet when they got like this.

“But what are they doing on Tarilia 14?” said the Doctor. He was holding up some tiny component to the light. “I wonder if they’re here alone – Zoe, would you fetch my magnifying glass? It’s on the chair, there.”

Just as Zoe stepped away from the console, the buzzing was back. His head thrummed with it. It must have been a signal, for his body leapt into action. His fingers closed around the handle of the gun, and then, as Zoe brushed past him, he snatched her and held her tight, an arm wrapped around her, one hand pressed over her mouth. The barrel of the cyber-pistol pressed against her temple. She had barely enough time to squeal. He heard his own name, muffled by his hand.

“Jamie?” said the Doctor, sounding so very hurt and confused. “What are you _doing_?”

“You are surrounded,” said the cyberman through Jamie’s mouth. “You will exit your vessel or the human female will die.”

“Oh,” the Doctor breathed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But you aren’t Jamie, are you?”

Zoe was squirming in his grasp; his grip on her tightened till it probably hurt. Jamie knew how she must feel. She must feel just how he’d felt when the cybermen took ahold of him – just as helpless and weak and useless. “You will exit your vessel and surrender yourself or the human female will die,” it said in Jamie’s voice.

“There’s no need for that.” The Doctor stepped away from the forgotten cybermat, pacing slowly towards Jamie, as if he were a wild animal. “I tell you what. I’ll surrender myself if you tell me what you’ve done to Jamie.”

The gun pressed still harder against Zoe’s head. “You will surrender yourself or the human female –”

“Or the human female will die, yes,” said the Doctor. “I understand.” He made a move towards the console, and Jamie’s hands jerked, the tip of the pistol slipping from Zoe’s temple to her chin. She was trying to speak, but her voice was too muffled for him to understand.

“You will make no attempt to pilot your vessel away.” 

“Yes, yes,” said the Doctor. “I’m merely – opening the doors.”

Jamie guessed that he was lying even before he saw the Doctor wasn’t reaching for the door controls. The Doctor had a plan, surely. He’d find a way to fix this. Jamie wanted to plead with him to fix this, but he couldn’t do that, not even with his eyes. His face was cold and hard.

“Just opening the doors,” said the Doctor in that soothing way he had as he flicked a lever. “There, now.” He twisted a dial.

There was a piercing whine, a shriek that seemed to split Jamie’s skull. The metal in his head was thrumming and he was reeling back, its grip on Zoe loosening. The pistol was pried from his hand, and he felt a brief snatch of relief before the pain consumed him.

It hurt like nothing on earth – hurt so much he almost thought the Doctor had killed him, that his skull was cracking apart and his brains were pouring out of his ears. But the pain dulled, and he was still alive – alive, but not himself.

He was kneeling on the floor of the TARDIS. He didn’t remember falling to his knees. He could hear the Doctor and Zoe talking, their voices sounding far away, like an echo. “I don’t understand.” Zoe sounded as if she were on the brink of tears.

“The cybermen must have caught him,” the Doctor said. “They’ve done something to him.”

“But what did you do?”

The Doctor started on some mumbo-jumbo about sonic control and the TARDIS’s communication system that Jamie didn’t understand, and couldn’t hear properly besides. His head still hurt. The cyberman raised his head, and abruptly it was staring down the barrel of its own gun, clasped in Zoe’s trembling hands.

“Jamie.” The Doctor was saying his name, and for half a moment Jamie was confused, because it wasn’t him kneeling on the floor of the TARDIS, it was a cyber-thing – but the Doctor knew that. “Jamie, if you can hear me, you need to fight it.” Jamie’s vision was blurring again. The Doctor’s voice was like an echo of an echo. “Can you hear me, Jamie?” The world was a muted haze. Darkness was swallowing him again, and he tried to fight it, but he wasn’t strong enough, or it was too strong. The Doctor was still talking, but it all sounded like nonsense, and none of it was any use. His voice sounded further and further away, drifting into the distance. The light turned grey. Everything faded away.

*

There were lights in front of his eyes. Sounds – voice he didn’t recognise, something like gunfire, a rending _crash_ like the world being torn apart. All of it was distant and hazy. The next thing he was aware of clearly, he was lying upon the metal slab, immobile. Not just strapped down – paralysed. He couldn’t even twitch his fingers or open his eyes.

For a moment he was panicked. He thought for sure he was back on the cyber-ship, that the cybermen had got him again and were going to finish what they’d started – but the hand touching his shoulder was flesh and blood, not metal, and there was something soft cushioning his head.

“Well?” said a voice he didn’t know.

“Give me a moment,” said the Doctor. _The Doctor_. It was his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. If Jamie could move he would have sighed in relief.

“He’ll be alright, though, won’t he, Doctor?” Zoe, standing on the other side of him. 

“It depends what they’ve done,” said the Doctor. “Cybernetic implants, I should think. But it depends how extensive –” Jamie had rarely heard the Doctor sound so wrung out. He wanted to tell him to get some sleep, since was an old man and all.

Fingers prying apart his eyelids. He caught a glimpse of the Doctor’s face – the most welcome sight he’d seen in, in – well, a long while – before bright light shone into his eye, making it water. “That’s a good sign,” the Doctor was saying. “Yes.” He let Jamie’s eye fall closed. His fingers ran across Jamie’s forehead, brushing his hair aside.

“What do we do?” said Zoe.

“See if we can’t de-activate the implants,” said the Doctor. “And pray they haven’t done any permanent damage.”

Permanent damage? Jamie didn’t think that he was damaged, except for not being able to move. Aye, if the Doctor could fix that he’d be right as rain. 

“What about my people?” said the voice he didn’t know. It was a man’s voice. A gruff voice. 

“I _told_ you,” said the Doctor in that desperate voice he had. Jamie couldn’t always tell whether or not he was putting it on. “Jamie first! Now will you _please_ let me work?”

There was muttering. Footsteps. The gruff-voiced man must have left, because the Doctor started talking to Zoe more freely. It was good to hear their voices again, even if he couldn’t talk to them and didn’t understand half the words they were using. He didn’t know how long it had been. Hours? Days, maybe? A memory came to him – the Doctor’s voice, outraged.

_“What have you done to Jamie?”_

_A deep, buzzing voice that Jamie knew all too well had answered. “We have… enhanced him.”_

_“ **Enhanced** him?”_

When had that been? And where? He didn’t remember anything except the voices, and the sensation of being trapped in his own body like a mouse in a trap.

“Lift his head, now. Gently, Zoe!”

“I _am_ being gentle.” Zoe’s dainty little fingers lifting his head – and the cage was closing about him again. Panic flared through him. It was just as well he couldn’t move. He’d probably have rolled right off the slab to get away from that thing. But as it was he lay still, and let the Doctor ease his head into it. There was a clicking nearby, and a buzzing in his ears. 

Jamie wasn’t sure if they knew he was conscious and afraid, so when Zoe’s little fingers slipped into his hand and squeezed he didn’t know if it was for his comfort or hers. He wished he could squeeze back. “Poor Jamie,” she said, her thumb stroking the back of his hand. “He _will_ be alright, Doctor?”

“He’ll be _fine_ , Zoe,” said the Doctor gently, closer by than Jamie had thought. “Come away, now.”

Her hand slipped out of his as she stepped away.

Another memory came, unbidden. _He was kneeling on the floor of the TARDIS, staring up at the cyber-pistol in Zoe’s hands. “Don’t move,” she said. Jamie felt himself rising to his feet. “I said don’t move! Don’t think I won’t shoot just because you’re J-Jamie.” Her voice trembled on his name. “Jamie would rather die than be a cyberman.”_

“You see, there,” he heard the Doctor saying.

“They’re so small.”

“Powerful things, though,” said the Doctor. There was an edge of admiration there, Jamie thought. Despite everything the Doctor couldn’t help but admire the _engineering_. Well, he’d give the Doctor a piece of his mind later, for sure. 

“It shouldn’t be too difficult to reconfigure.” The Doctor was coming back. “Let me see, now.” He was lifting Jamie’s head in its cage, turning it gently to look at the back of his neck. His fingers brushed Jamie’s hair aside and lightly touched the place where it itched so, tracing the lines where they’d cut him. Had they cut him? He didn’t remember being cut.

“Oh, how horrid!” Zoe exclaimed. “Is that where they –”

The Doctor set his head back on the slab, but didn’t move away. He lingered, his hand brushing across Jamie’s hair. “Yes,” he said. “If we reconfigure their system, we should be able to use it to de-activate Jamie. To de-activate all of them.” His hand withdrew. “We had best get to work.”

They kept babbling away, about the science of it, and Jamie only half-listened. He trusted them to fix this – to fix what had been done to him. He did wish they would talk to him, though. True enough, they probably thought he was asleep, but they could at least try.

He wished he could remember what had happened. He knew the cybermen had got him – he remembered it vividly, and almost wished he didn’t – but what had happened after that he couldn’t say. They were on the cyber-ship – he recognised the smell of the place – but how had they come to be there? The gruff-voiced man wasn’t a cyberman. Where were the cybermen? Had the Doctor beaten them, or were they still out there?

A memory. A voice. _“Mercy.” The cyber-controller. He could hear it but he couldn’t see it. He’d been standing somewhere nearby, listening._

_“Mercy?” The Doctor’s voice. “You ask me for mercy? You’ve taken one of my dearest friends and turned him into your weapon – oh, you’ll get no mercy from me –”_

The Doctor’s hand on his face, tilting it about. “Careful, Doctor.” Zoe’s voice.

“I do know what I’m doing, Zoe,” the Doctor reassured her. There was a sharp pain – a needle piercing his neck, cold liquid flowing into his veins. He felt a curious lightness flood him as the Doctor tilted his face back and adjusted the cage. “Yes. That should do it.”

“He _will_ be alright, won’t he?” said Zoe.

“I’m quite certain he will be,” said the Doctor. “This is going to work, Zoe. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t mean will be – be _Jamie_ again,” said Zoe. “I mean, will he be alright. Afterwards.”

Silence. The Doctor said, “oh, Zoe.” His voice turned hushed. “He’ll cope. It’s possible he won’t even remember. Now, shall we try this?”

There were clicking sounds, and more science-babble. Whatever they meant to try, Jamie prayed to God it would work. He couldn’t stand this for much longer – not being able to move, to speak, to ask what had happened, to be sure that they were both alright.

What was it they hoped he wouldn’t remember? He strained, but the last – how long had it been? Hours? Days? However long it had been, it was like a dream that he could barely remember. He remembered soldiers. He remembered the earth shaking beneath his feet. He remembered standing to attention in a line of people the cybermen had – 

_He remembered a high-pitched screamed rolling through the air, and he remembered the sensation of his body crumpling in on itself like an old sack, falling in a heap on the floor. “Jamie!” Zoe calling his name. Desperate footsteps. She was beside him, her hands on his shoulders, shaking him. “Jamie?” She had touched his face, his neck, feeling for a pulse._

_“Is he…?” The Doctor, somewhere nearby._

_“He’s alive.”_

But that must have been recently – not more than a few hours ago. Just before they’d brought him here to fix him. He wanted to scream in frustration.

“I think we’re ready,” the Doctor said. “Zoe?”

“I’m ready, Doctor.” She was standing beside him. Her hand found his again, her fingers curling around his. 

“Alright, then. Fingers crossed, hmm?” he said, affecting lightness.

There was more clicking, and the buzzing in his ears intensified. It jarred through his whole body, like he was being shaken, making him spasm. He felt his eyes screw tighter shut and his fingers twitch against the slab, squeezing Zoe’s hand back. His legs kicked. It hurt, but not as badly as it had before, when the Doctor had – it hurt, but he could bear it.

It was like a weight being lifted from atop him. With a last twitch, his body was his own again. He took a deep breath, gasping for air, and tried to open his eyes.

“Jamie?” Everything was blurry. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. The blur resolved itself into the Doctor’s face, peering over him anxiously. “Jamie? Can you hear me? How do you feel?”

“Got one hell of a headache, Doctor,” he managed. Zoe almost laughed, breathless with relief; the Doctor sounded like he was breathing easy for the first time in days. 

“Welcome back, Jamie,” said the Doctor. 

“Good to _be_ back.” Jamie scrubbed at his face, at his eyes. He tried to sit up, but something caught his head. 

“Oh, careful, now!” said the Doctor. “Here, I’ll unplug you.” He set about detaching the wires from the cage, and slipped the vile thing off Jamie’s head, letting him sit up. He swivelled himself around on the slab, letting his legs dangle. “Now, how do you feel? Are you quite alright? I – oof!”

Jamie wrapped his arms around the Doctor, pulling him into a tight hug. “Oh, my,” said the Doctor.

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Jamie, the Doctor’s hair tickling his nose.

“Well, Zoe helped,” said the Doctor. So Jamie lunged at her and hugged her too, though she squealed. It was so good to be able to move his own limbs again. He wanted to get up and run about – but the Doctor would scold him for sure if he tried that, and his legs felt like pudding besides.

“Jamie.” The Doctor’s hand was on his shoulder, pressing insistently, coaxing him away from Zoe. “How do you _feel_? Can you move your fingers?”

“’Course I can.” Jamie unlooped his arm from Zoe’s waist and demonstrated.

“And your toes?” Jamie tested them inside his shoes, and nodded. The Doctor’s hand drifted from his shoulder to his back and lingered there. “Good. That’s good. Now, how do you feel?”

“M’head hurts.” Jamie rubbed at his forehead, as if that would help. He trailed a hand through his hair, to the place at the back of his head that still itched. He felt raised scars that were sore to the touch; beneath the skin the dull, hard shape of the metal the cybermen had put in him. “I’m thirsty.”

“Zoe, some water.” She nodded and hurried away, coming back with a cup that she pressed into his hand. He gulped it down, the Doctor’s hand tracing up and down his back. Normally he’d tell the Doctor not to be such a mother hen, but he didn’t much mind right at the moment.

He finished the water, wiped his mouth, and took a proper look around. The cyber-ship, its mirrored walls gleaming on all sides, reflecting them back and forth. Zoe had dark circles under her eyes; the Doctor had a mottled bruise upon his jaw, and he was in his shirtsleeves. It was his jacket that had been pillowing Jamie’s head, folded on the slab.

The machines were still clicking. The slabs were all occupied by people in blue and grey uniforms, all of them apparently sleeping soundly. The nearest one was a girl who looked as young as Victoria, her blonde hair scraped away from his face. “Better?” said the Doctor.

Jamie nodded his head at the next slab. “Who’s the lassie?”

The Doctor turned to look. “Ah,” he said. “Local security forces, I’m afraid.”

“She doesn’t look old enough to be a soldier.” Zoe was prying the cup out of his hand, and he let her. “What happened to the cybermen?”

“You don’t remember?” said Zoe. Jamie shrugged. She looked pointedly at the Doctor.

“They’re gone,” he said flatly. Jamie poked at the scars on the back of his neck again. The Doctor swatted his hand away. “Careful, Jamie. You’ll make it worse.”

It was on the tip of Jamie’s tongue to ask more questions – what had been done to him, how had he come to be back on the cyber-ship – when through the doors came a man in the same blue-grey uniform as the people on the slabs. His eyes alighted on Jamie, and he tensed. “Is it working?” Jamie recognised his gruff voice.

The Doctor’s hand at last slipped from his back. “Jamie seems to be recovering.”

“I’m alright,” said Jamie. The Doctor shushed him.

“Colonel, I appreciate your concern, but if you could perhaps –”

“Can you fix the others?” The colonel gestured to the people on the slabs.

“Colonel, _please_.” The Doctor turned to Jamie. “Can you walk?”

“Aye, I think so.” His legs didn’t feel firm, but he wasn’t about to let a little thing like that stop him. “But –”

“Zoe, why don’t you take Jamie back to the TARDIS? I’m sure he’d like to get off this ship.” The Doctor ushered Jamie off the slab, a steadying hand on his elbow.

“But Doctor –”

“And I’m sure this business will only bore you both,” the Doctor went on. “Off you go, now –”

“Doctor –”

“Come away, Jamie,” Zoe whispered. She tried to lead him away, but he staggered; she let him lean on her all the way to the doors.

The doors buzzed closed, and at once the gruff man was talking, his voice angry, but too muffled for Jamie to make out any words. He wanted to linger and eavesdrop, but Zoe was dragging him away.

Jamie found his legs again long before they found their way out of the ship, but he kept one hand on the glassy wall, for balance. “I shouldn’t worry,” Zoe was babbling. “The Doctor’s – very tired. That’s all.”

“Oh, aye,” said Jamie. They came upon a place where the corridor widened out. There was a black mark upon one of the mirrors, a stain, like soot, and at the sight of it – 

_He was holding the cyber-weapon firmly in his hand. Without a moment’s hesitation, he raised it and aimed it at a young man in blue-grey uniform. The man’s hands were trembling on his own gun, and he started to speak, but before he could say a word Jamie fired; he fired, and the man was propelled backwards by the force of the blast. He struck the mirrored wall and slithered down, leaving a black mark in his wake, smoke coming from his head._

“Jamie?” Zoe’s soft hand upon his elbow. “Oh Jamie, don’t. Come _away_.”

The ship wasn’t in the caves any longer. Jamie was startled to see sunlight. The ship was resting upon the grassy moor, surrounded by chunks of brown and grey rock. There was an acrid smell in the air. The TARDIS was nearby, and at first Jamie was confused, for this wasn’t where they’d landed, and how had it moved? But it was where they’d landed; it was the ground that had moved. The rocks and dust, propelled upwards and outwards when the cyber-ship had burst out of the caves. He could see the gaping hole in the ground it had left, smoking like a doorway to hell.

There were a few men and women in uniform around the place. They all looked at him anxiously, until they saw Zoe at his elbow. It made him uneasy. He was glad once they were back in the TARDIS and he could relax. There was no safer place in the universe than the inside of the TARDIS – of that he was quite certain.

“Do you want anything?” said Zoe. “Shall we make tea?”

“Aye, let’s,” said Jamie. He let Zoe handle it – he didn’t understand the TARDIS kitchen at the best of times, and his hands were still trembling too much to be trusted with hot water – and poked about in the cupboards. “I feel like I haven’t eaten for a week,” he said as his hand fell upon the biscuit tin.

He’d meant it as a joke, but a frosty silence fell across them both. Jamie cleared his throat and opened the tin. “How long’s it been?”

“Seventeen days,” said Zoe. “But they must have been feeding you something.”

Seventeen days; less time than he’d feared but more than he’d hoped. Seventeen days he’d been gone – but he didn’t feel anything. What little of it he could remember seemed as if it had happened to someone else. 

“Here.” Zoe was pressing a mug of tea into his hands. “Are you alright? You went all –” Her hands were still cupping his. He nudged her away. She’d kept talking, he realised, but he hadn’t heard a word.

“M’alright.” He raised the mug to his lips, but he couldn’t quite make himself drink it. His hand went, almost involuntarily, to the back of his neck, where the raised scars still itched. “What happened?”

“It’s such a long story –” He gave her a pointed look. “It _is_ , Jamie. It’s all been such a mess. You see, there’s a town nearby – and the local security forces – oh, it seems like _months_.”

“What happened to the cybermen?”

There was the slightest of pauses before she said, “the Doctor dealt with them.”

“Och, will you please just _tell_ me?”

A longer pause. She toyed with her mug. “Alright.” She sat down. “Alright. But I really think the Doctor would tell it better.”

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me.” Jamie sat beside her and sipped his tea. It didn’t taste right, but he couldn’t bring himself to spit it out with Zoe there.

“He’s just tired,” Zoe assured him. “And, well – how much do you remember?”

“Bits and pieces,” said Jamie. Bits and pieces, as if they’d happened to someone else. The last time he remembered feeling like himself had been – “Last I remember clearly we were in the TARDIS, and –” He trailed into silence. He’d been hoping that would be enough, but Zoe was looking at him expectantly. “We were in the TARDIS, and you were pointing a gun at me.”

Zoe looked down at her mug. “I’m sorry.”

“Och, don’t apologise,” said Jamie, truly astonished. I’d never occurred to him that she might feel bad; he just hadn’t wanted to remind her that he’d held a gun to her head. Or remind himself, for that matter.

“I wouldn’t actually have shot you,” said Zoe hastily. 

_Don’t think I won’t shoot just because you’re Jamie._ “Aye. Course you wouldn’t’ve. What happened after that?”

“You – I mean, the cyberman – opened the doors – you let them in. They took us back to the cyber-ship, and –”

She went on talking, but Jamie stopped hearing it. He was aboard that ship again, standing trapped within his own body, and the Doctor –

_“What have you done to Jamie?” The Doctor was flanked by a pair of cybermen. Another had its metal hand clasped around Zoe’s arm. He was addressing the cyber-controller, a thing like a statue, its face like a silver skull._

_Its voice buzzed. “We have… enhanced him.”_

_“ **Enhanced** him?”_

_“He no longer feels pain. He no longer feels fear. His obedience is perfect.”_

_“It’s monstrous!”_

_“It is progress.”_

_Jamie stood, his eyes fixed upon the Doctor, a tatty little figure amidst all the shining metal of the cyber-ship; and he felt nothing at all. A comfortable numbness – comfortable, because he knew that everything that was happening was right and proper._

“– But of course they’d never seen cybermen before, and they were hopelessly outgunned. The cybermen took so many prisoners, and of course they – they did to all of them what they did to you. There were only a few cybermen, you see. So – Jamie? Are you alright?” She reached out to touch his hand. He flinched.

“I’m fine.” Jamie rubbed at his face. His fingers drifted again to the scars on the back of his neck.

“Oh, don’t do that,” said Zoe. “You’ll make it worse. Are you _sure_ you’re alright? Every so often it’s like you just –” Whatever she’d been going to say she thought better of.

“What happened to the cybermen?” Zoe turned her eyes down. “Oh, Zoe, come _on_.”

“I told you, it’s complicated,” said Zoe. “You see, it’s – well, these cybermen aren’t the same as the ones we’ve met before. The Doctor says we’re further ahead in their time stream. You see, they were all linked to the controller – a bit like bees, with a queen. So he overloaded the controller.”

“Overloaded it?”

“Well, he overloaded its sensory nodes to create a feedback loop, which – well, it –”

“It killed them all?” Jamie knew, without having to ask, that the cyber-bits in his head had been linked to the controller as well. He wondered just what that _overloading_ had done to him. He thought of the Doctor admiring the engineering the cybermen had put in his head, and barely contained a shudder. Zoe’s eyes were on him, wide and unblinking, and abruptly he needed to be away from her. He couldn’t look at her without remembering what he had done – the cyber gun in his hand, pressed against her temple, her breath warm against his hand as he held her mouth closed.

He stood up, wrenching his chair away from the table. “Jamie –”

“I’m alright,” he said. “I’m alright. I’m just – tired.”

It wasn’t a lie. He was tired; suddenly, bone-achingly tired. But though he went to his bed and lay down, he couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t sure he wanted to sleep. When he closed his eyes, still more of it came back to him.

_He was in the tunnels. The Doctor was there, with half a dozen men and women in uniform. One of them had a gun raised, aimed square at him, but the Doctor stopped her silently. “Jamie?” he said. “Can you hear me?”_

_He raised his cyber gun and pointed it at the Doctor, but that didn’t deter him. He took a step forward. “You have to fight this, Jamie. Whatever they’ve done to you, you have to fight.”_

_But of course, that was illogical. He could hear the Doctor fine, but there was no part of him that wanted to fight. He was following his orders._

_And yet when the Doctor took another step forward, he didn’t pull the trigger. “Do you remember Victoria, Jamie?” Another step. “Try to remember.”_

_He didn’t feel anything; but when the Doctor took a last step forward and began to pry the gun from his hand, he didn’t resist. His arm fell to his side._

_The Doctor said, “Jamie –” but before he could utter another word whatever chink he’d managed to open up closed. Jamie didn’t have his gun. He drew back his arm and punched as hard as he could. The Doctor’s head snapped around; when he turned back his face was bloodied, and there was something like disappointment in his gaze._

Jamie ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to blot it out. It wasn’t that it hurt to remember – no, it was the opposite. He didn’t feel anything at all. Not even when he thought of what he’d almost done to Zoe – he knew he’d been afraid at the time, but thinking back on it – numbness. Now he felt nothing but tired, and sick.

That was what the cybermen had taken from him, being able to feel things, and he wasn’t sure the Doctor had given it back. The Doctor’d said he might be _permanently damaged_.

He had to speak to the Doctor. He had to speak to the Doctor _right away_. Suddenly resolved, he clambered off his bed and went in search of the Doctor.

*

The cyber-ship was cold and lifeless, and he found that his feet remembered the way through the corridors. The Doctor was still in the conversion chamber, where the slabs were all standing empty. He was peering at the screens, his handkerchief twisted in his hands. He looked up at the sound of the doors, mouth open, ready to speak, but he must have been expecting someone other than Jamie. His gaze dropped.

“Jamie,” he said. “I thought I sent you back to the TARDIS?”

“Aye, you did, but –” Jamie gave up, not sure how to explain why he’d come back. “What’s that you’re doing?”

“Hmm? Just tying up some loose ends. I think it’s best we leave as soon as possible.” He straightened up and looked at Jamie – but didn’t quite meet his gaze. “How are you feeling?”

“I –” Whatever he’d been going to say died on his lips. “I wanted to ask –”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait till we’re back in the TARDIS,” said the Doctor. He went to the slab and began inspecting the cage. “I’ve made sure the scientists here know how to de-program the rest of them. I’d like to leave before they try to convince me to stay longer.”

Jamie shifted his weight, waiting for the Doctor to go on talking, but he was silent. He was waiting for Jamie to leave. Why, though? It hit Jamie with full force just why, and before he could stop himself he blurted out, “are you angry with me?”

The Doctor looked up sharply, his eyes wide and confused. “Angry? Why would I be angry?” He sounded sincere, but Jamie never could tell.

“I remember you kept telling me to fight it,” he said, “but I couldnae fight it, and –”

“Oh, _Jamie_ ,” said the Doctor.

“I didn’t even try to fight it – I didn’t know how –”

“Jamie,” said the Doctor firmly. He set the cage back down upon the slab and moved towards Jamie. “Of course I’m not angry.”

“Then why’ve you been –”

“ _Jamie_ ,” the Doctor said again. “I’m so sorry, Jamie.”

Jamie blinked. “Sorry for –”

“I should never have left you alone in those tunnels,” said the Doctor. “This never would have happened if I hadn’t been so –”

“Aye, and it never would have happened if you hadn’t taken me away from Scotland, either,” said Jamie. The Doctor looked as if that very thought had crossed his mind more than once. “If you hadn’t taken me away I’d likely be dead now,” he added. “And you fixed it, didn’t you? You saved me and all.”

A dark look crossed the Doctor’s face. “I didn’t know that I could,” he said. “I didn’t know if there’d be anything left _to_ save, Jamie. These cybermen, their technology is centuries ahead of any cybertechnology I’ve seen before. I didn’t fully understand what they did to you, and –” He broke off. His voice sounded so weary. Jamie wanted to touch him, to put a hand on his arm or his shoulder, but he had a feeling the Doctor would flinch away.

“And what?”

“The device I constructed,” said the Doctor slowly. “I didn’t know what it would do to you – to any of the people who’d been converted.”

It took a moment for the full force of the Doctor’s words to sink in, for Jamie to understand what he meant. Whatever the Doctor did, it could have killed him – killed all of them, cybermen and human alike. For a split second he was angry, angry that the Doctor had risked it, but only for a second. That was the kind of decision that needed to be made sometimes, wasn’t it? And he trusted the Doctor to make it. “I’m alright, aren’t I?” he said.

“Jamie –”

“I’m alright.” Freshly resolved, he stepped forward and pulled the Doctor into a hug.

“I’d never have forgiven myself, you know,” said the Doctor. “If anything had –”

“Well, it’s just as well I’m here to forgive you, isn’t it?” said Jamie.

The Doctor pulled away from him, but kept a hand on his arm. “I think it’s high time we went back to the TARDIS,” he said. “Before this lot start pestering me again.” He jerked his head at the door.

Jamie followed him out of the cyber-ship, sending up a quick prayer to never set foot in the place again; followed him all the way to the TARDIS, where Zoe was waiting for them.

“Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed when she saw Jamie. “I was about to go looking for you. You mustn’t rush off like that.”

Of course, he _rushed off_ all the time, but he knew what she meant; he wasn’t alright, and she must have noticed. “I was only looking for the Doctor,” he said. The doors hummed closed behind him. The Doctor went to the console and began pulling switches.

“Are we leaving already, Doctor?” said Zoe.

“Yes, I think so, Zoe,” said the Doctor. “I think it’s best, before we get any more involved here than we already are –” He turned one last knob, and the column began to rise and fall, a grating hum of engines filling the room. Jamie let out a sigh at the sight of it. He was more relieved to be leaving than he’d expected.

None of them spoke as they dematerialised – heading for somewhere nice and quiet, Jamie hoped, unlikely as it was. He rested his hands on the edge of the console and watched the column move.

Then, out of nowhere, the Doctor said, “how much do you remember, Jamie?”

He was looking down at the console rather than at Jamie. “Bits and pieces,” he said. “Not much. I remember you talking to me. I’m alright, though.”

“No, you’re not,” said Zoe. She turned to the Doctor, her hair bobbing. “He isn’t, Doctor.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Jamie protested, but she wouldn’t let him lie about it.

“When we were talking earlier, he kept going – blank.” By the look on her face it had been a struggle to admit it. He supposed he might have frightened her a little. It must have seemed almost as if he was –

The Doctor was looking at him, concerned. “Jamie?”

“I’m fine,” Jamie insisted. “I just keep – I keep on remembering bits of it. That’s all.”

“I see,” said the Doctor. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and looked at Jamie as if he expected him to go on speaking. “It might do you good to talk about it.”

What was there to say? They knew more than he did. He knew it was him that put those bruises on the Doctor’s face; he wondered if the Doctor knew he knew. His grip on the console tightened, and he said nothing. “It must have been awful,” Zoe piped up at his elbow.

“It wasn’t, though,” said Jamie. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he couldn’t help himself. “It was for a while, but then – I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t myself anymore.” At first he’d been trapped inside his own body, but something had changed. He remembered being afraid, and then he remembered feeling nothing at all, nothing but a cool, easy certainty that he had to obey. If he’d ever thought about it he’d have supposed it must be awful to be a cyberman, but it wasn’t. It was easy. There hadn’t been any fear or doubt or confusion. There’d only been clarity. His sole purpose had been to obey. “I didn’t feel anything.”

“That’s to be expected,” said the Doctor. “It’s alright. You mustn’t feel responsible, Jamie.”

“I don’t, Doctor,” said Jamie. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Jamie –”

“I don’t feel anything,” Jamie said. Now that he’d started talking about it he couldn’t stop. “Doctor – what if I can’t feel anything? What if the cybermen took that away?”

“The cybermen didn’t take anything away from you,” said the Doctor gently. “The implants only suppressed your emotions, once they were fully integrated. They’re deactivated now.”

“Then why can’t I feel anything?”

“You’re probably just repressing,” said Zoe. “It’s a perfectly normal way to feel after trauma. You needn’t worry.”

“Zoe’s right, Jamie,” said the Doctor. “The implants are quite dead.”

Jamie touched them, feeling the shapes beneath his skin. They felt like interlocking rings. “Are you sure? Could they be reactivated?”

“Potentially,” said the Doctor. “But they won’t be.”

“Can you take them out?” said Jamie, still touching them.

“I’d rather not try,” said the Doctor. “It would take a better surgeon than me to get those out without damaging your nervous system. But I can make certain they’re dead, if it would put your mind at rest.”

*

In the Doctor’s laboratory aboard the TARDIS, Jamie sat surrounded by clutter as the Doctor fussed about with his medical supplies. There were books piled here and there, mysterious things in jars, fragments of rock the Doctor was collecting from planets he’d visited. “This won’t hurt a bit,” the Doctor said soothingly.

“Oh, aye,” said Jamie, not believing him for a moment. But he didn’t care if it hurt.

“Are you ready?” Jamie nodded. “Alright, then.” There was a brief stab of pain. Jamie flinched.

“You said it wouldn’t hurt!”

“I lied,” said the Doctor, passing the empty syringe to Zoe. “Local anaesthetic. Is your neck going numb?”

“Aye,” said Jamie. It was an odd sensation, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Alright,” said the Doctor. “Hold very still. Scalpel, Zoe.”

“Scalpel.” There was a chink of metal. Jamie braced himself, but the Doctor had been telling the truth after all. It didn’t hurt.

It didn’t hurt, but he could still feel it. “I can feel you poking around back there.”

Metal chinked again. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

“Then please be quiet. I almost have it.” One last tweak, and the Doctor was tugging something out. “There. One control chip.” He held it out in the palm of gloved hand. “Souvenir?”

It was such a little thing, a tiny metallic square. It hardly weighed anything at all. “It won’t work without this?”

“I guarantee it,” said the Doctor. “Shall we get you stitched up?”

Jamie didn’t answer. He stared at the chip in his hand, then dropped it onto the table and reached decisively for the nearest chunk of rock to grind it into little bits. It was so brittle.

“I might have wanted a look at that,” said the Doctor ruefully.

“You gave it to me, didn’t you?” said Jamie.

“I suppose I did,” said the Doctor with a weary sigh. He tousled Jamie’s hair fondly. “Let’s stitch you up. Then I think we shall land the TARDIS.”

“You better take us somewhere nice,” said Zoe as she passed him the needle and thread.

“Aye. Without any beasties,” said Jamie.

“I shall make no promises,” said the Doctor, which made Jamie chuckle. “Oh, hold _still_ , you daft boy!”


End file.
